A/N: So, as I said the last time, I moved a bit forward in time. This chapter takes place a year later than the previous one. It's year 3011 of the Third Age.

I had bit of a trouble writing this one, which is why it took a while longer. However, it is also the longest chapter thus far. I finished this already on friday, but ff didn't let me log in for two days so that I could have posted it. But, finally, here you go:

Almost a year had passed since Aefwyn had arrived to Edoras. During that year she had regained some of her friendship with Éomund's children. They had approached her slowly, as if fearing she might have changed so much they wouldn't know her at all anymore. Éowyn had been the more cautious one, but Éomer, as always, had moved forward in with the same rashness he always sported.

Éomer's attention to her quickly sprouted rumors in the servants' quarters. Many seemed to believe they were having a secret affair, a notion so silly Aefwyn had to restrain herself from laughing out loud every time someone asked her about it. And ask they did. Some of the girls Éomer had previously dallied with came to warn her that he could never be serious with a servant girl and that she shouldn't at least believe he could have fallen in love with her.

She usually brushed these rumors off with a small laugh and saying that Éomer was just a friendly person. She herself would have been the last one to believe Éomer to have ulterior motives. Éomer was, after all, the staple example of a straight-forward person if anyone.

Her "new" friendship with the royal niece and nephew had softened Odwyn up. Even if she sometimes had a doubtful look upon her, she no longer dared to give her only the dirtiest tasks as she had done in the beginning. She had been given the task of taking care of Éowyn and Éomer's chambers. It was not a small task, seeing that the siblings both had spacious rooms.

She didn't see them too often though. Éowyn was busy taking care of her uncle's household and Éomer spent increasing periods of time patrolling the outskirts of Rohan. Orcs had started to attack the border villages with more ferocity and in greater masses, and Edoras at times felt very empty with all the Riders gone on various missions.

Also, the passing of a year had seen a slow decline in Théoden King's health. He had become forgetful and more reliant on his advisors. Or more specifically, Gríma son of Galmód. It was hardly noticeable at times, but sometimes one could see the king wasn't quite how he had been. The change was very subtle, but nevertheless some had noticed it.

Aefwyn herself thought the king to be just as he had been. He was a man in his late fifties, and sometimes age did that to men. Some of the king's senior advisors just did not like Gríma all that well, and wanted to make him seem worse than he was, she thought. She didn't like Gríma either, his sly eyes or unkempt appearance, but she was not in a position to judge someone Théoden King had elevated into a distinguished station within his household.

Éowyn hated Gríma. The man made no longer any attempts to guise his interest in the king's niece. He was in a high position within the court now, and it wasn't uncommon for an advisor to marry from the royal line. It had happened several times after Eorl had made court at Aldburg, and it was obvious this was also in Gríma's hopes.

Of course, very rarely had the bride been of such an exquisite birth as Éowyn. Mostly they had been second cousins to a king or even less connected to the ruling king. But Gríma had set his sights high and they were firmly set on Éowyn. Thus far the king had dismissed such a notion as foolish, and both Aefwyn and Éowyn were deeply grateful for that. Aefwyn's reasons were at parts very selfish as she detested the thought of touching anything that man possessed. Also, she saw how much Éowyn feared and detested the man and knew perfectly well why.

Éowyn at sixteen was a beautiful maiden. Her hair was long and golden, her body slender and perfectly formed, and her oval face the very image of beauty. She had inherited every ounce of royal grace her mother had ever possessed. She was not too conscious of her beauty though. Most of the time it seemed she was hardly aware of her looks, and even less aware of their effect on men.

Aefwyn admired it. After she had befriended the royal siblings again, she had been the subject of some attention from the rest of the men who inhabited the Hall. It seemed as though the mere presence of Éomer in her vicinity had made her seem available. It was of course a silly notion, but now she had to shoo away young Riders left and right. It seemed Éomer's prowess with the ladyfolk made her seem like his latest conquest and as such available for everyone.

The very notion of her being Éomer's lover seemed a tad ridiculous to her, and even more so their way of thinking. Even if Éomer had bedded her, why on earth would she then drag every other man to her bed? The siblings seemed to find as much mirth in the young men's antics as she did when she told them of the things those young men talked to her about.

She hadn't noticed the way Éomer never seemed to be completely genuine in his mirth, or how his eyes never laughed with them.

Éomer was again scheduled to return any day now. Éowyn and Aefwyn were both expecting him anxiously. He seemed like a savior to them both: to Éowyn because Gríma seemed to be more afraid of him than of anyone, and to Aefwyn because his return meant the young men would leave her alone for a while.

She had very little interest in the dalliances they proposed, partially knowing that could still endanger her job and partially because those young men weren't interesting to her at all. They were like young stallions quite not in their prime yet, trying so hard to win over a reluctant mare that she just couldn't take them seriously.

A few times she had noticed her mind straying towards silly daydreams of Éomer. She usually caught herself in time when thinking such foolish thoughts and banished them from her mind with even more work. She knew how stupid those daydreams were: Éomer was after all still second in the line to the throne, should their cousin Théodred never have living issue.

And that wasn't too unseemly a scenario: Théodred was now 33 years old and seemed to have no intention of marrying anytime soon. In times like these when orcs were raiding the kingdom, it would have been safer to the crown if Théodred would marry post haste and get his wife with child.

These thoughts about the mortality of their prince were a common concern in Edoras at the time. Even though Théodred was in perfect physical health, his lack of wife made people worry for the future of their homeland. They still had a succession for the crown in Éomer, but he too was unmarried. The general populace of Edoras seemed to be a bit worried about these things, but no discontent was ever voiced. They trusted their king to eventually force his son into marriage, or if that proved too difficult, to coerce his dallying nephew into one.

Éowyn had told her that the king had made some inquiries to find suitable spouses for both men. Thus far, his findings had been rare, mostly because there were not many suitable women amongst the Rohirrim royalty. The whole concept of royalty sat ill with their culture, but some kind of upper class had nevertheless formed in Rohan. It consisted of families with ancient ties to the royal house, either through common ancestry or through marriage. Usually the members of these families rose high amongst the ranks of the military, some through their prowess as Riders and others through other means.

The concept of favoring people just because of their birth was strange to a culture that based almost entirely on a military force. That didn't stop men in high places from favoring their offspring, but it was by no means common. Most fathers though, like the king himself, expected their sons to prove their worth before they could ascend the ranks. Both Théodred and Éomer had started as common Riders. They had proven themselves to be good soldiers and had been given more responsibility when it had been due. Théodred had risen to his position as Marshal through the ranks as any other might. Under his command served his cousin, in nearly as exalted position as a captain.

It was this that made Riders of Rohan a truly fearsome force. Each Rider knew their task and set out to fulfill it with all their determination. Also, their commanders knew well what it meant to be a Rider in their ranks, as they had firsthand experiences of it. Having learned their share of military history they knew that in Gondor, for example, captains were often chosen for their birth rather than their prowess. There were men who rose to this responsibility, like Boromir, whom they had heard of. And, there were others who didn't quite live up to the challenge they had been given.

But, in the issue at hand, military prowess meant very little. It would have been an honor to any man in Rohan to say their daughter was to marry the king's only son or even his nephew. But very few men were in such a position as to offer their daughter's hand. And very few men in a suitable position had a daughter to offer. The Third Marshal, who was from an old and exalted lineage, had no daughters of a suitable age. The king's advisors, who were also of notable lineage, many with ties to the royal house, were older men whose daughters had already married. And their grandchildren were toddlers.

The king had of course set his sights also to lands far away from Rohan. The Prince of Dol Amroth, Imrahil, had just succeeded his father, who had died the previous year. He had a daughter, a maid of twelve years. Very young she was, and perhaps too young for this perilous situation. Théoden had no time to wait for this girl to grow, as his son needed a wife as soon as possible. But for Éomer, in a few years, the girl could be a suitable bride. Assuming the prince would give his only daughter to marry a mere nephew to the king.

But who was then to marry Théodred? The Steward of Gondor had no daughters, and the nobles in his halls were mostly strangers to the people of Rohan. Théodred himself showed significant lack of interest in the matter. He wooed maids, but none of them could be his queen. He had never fathered a bastard to any of his mistresses and once they were history in his eyes he was always courteous to them and never cruel. He had never found a woman he liked well enough to marry, and that he had said to his father quite a number of times.

And the people worried with their king. Even if it was only the people of Edoras who knew their prince was disinclined to marry, even people in the furthest reaches of Rohan knew he was not married, and spent time wondering who his father would choose for him.

Aefwyn had in a year learned a great deal of the political climate of Edoras. She heard rumors and gossip every day, and a significant portion of it was about the possible brides. It amused her to no end, to listen to them ponder the best and worst sides of each candidate. Their most distant object of admiration was Lothíriel, the little princess of Dol Amroth. They knew next to nothing of the girl, but nevertheless she was soon dubbed Éomer's bride. Aefwyn doubted Éomer knew very little about this scheme, as he didn't even know of the king's inquiries: he had been away from Edoras the whole time patrolling the borders. Éowyn knew of them as she had penned the letters for her uncle herself. Éowyn acted often as a secretary to the king and thus learned a lot of the political undercurrents.

Aefwyn sat on one of the stone slabs that formed the basis for the massive façade of the Golden Hall. From her vantage she saw the road make its way down the hill towards the great wooden gates; and the market place that was quieting for the night. Night was slowly falling, but it wouldn't be dark until perhaps two more hours.

She was waiting for Éomer. She had sat like this for an hour or two every evening and planned on doing so until Éomer returned. Sometimes Éowyn sat for a while with her, and sometimes one of her young admirers sat down for a while. They usually lingered outside and every once in a while one of them would approach her and try to strike a conversation.

Tonight, though, none of them was to be seen. The evening was quiet and the first stars were just coming out. This was as close to peaceful one could ever reach, Aefwyn thought to herself. Her days were full of the hustle of the kitchens and of work. Her evenings, on the other hand, spent like this one were peaceful and allowed her soul to rest.

She noticed not the gate opening, nor the men who rode within, wearied by travel and of battles. Her gaze lingered in the stars above, seeking for solace and guidance. Despite her friendships, she was still sometimes so lonely. It was nights like these when she often wondered who her father might have been.

She was so deep in her thoughts that she only noticed the arriving Riders after they had already started stabling their horses. She immediately spotted Éomer from the crowd, but remained seated. He was still in charge, and even if his men knew perfectly well what to do, Aefwyn had no intention of interrupting them. They were weary from the travel and wanted to get home to their families. She on the other hand was in no hurry.

She waited for perhaps half an hour, watching them care for their mounts and the packhorses. At this late hour, the stable boys were nowhere to be seen, and the men walked in and out of the stables carrying water for the horses. Finally, Éomer started towards the hall, in the company of another man. When they reached the stairs, however, his companion walked away, with a wave of his hand. Éomer continued up the steps, his saddlebags slung casually over one shoulder.

"A fine evening to spend outside, Aefwyn", he offered as a greeting and she nodded.

"It is so peaceful here." Éomer knew the bustle of the hall could sometimes be unbearable and nodded. He set down his bags and sat down next to her. Between them was a respectful distance, proper for two unmarried people.

"How long have you been outside?" The weather was warm, but the air had started to cool now that the sun was passing behind the mountains in the west. A soft breeze took the edge off the heat during the days, but it too had faded now.

"Perhaps an hour or two. I've not kept track of time." Aefwyn thought it was closer to two hours now, but she was in no hurry. Even with her light summer clothing made of linen she was comfortably warm still.

"What's happened since I last left?" This was a staple question, one he always asked when he returned. He got two different answers to it, in the least, one from his sister and one from Aefwyn. Éowyn told him of matters of state and of the household happenings, Aefwyn of interesting bits of gossip or interesting events.

"I hear you are to marry." She said this first partly to startle him. Part of her though wanted to hear his answer for more selfish reasons.

"Am I? I've not heard of such a maid as to tame me." There was a smile on his voice, but his eyes betrayed worry.

"I hear you are to marry a princess." His smile faded.

"Ah, the princess of what?"

"Of Dol Amroth, or so I've heard. Lothíriel is her name, a maid of twelve." A smile returned to his lips.

"Such a tiny thing! Then that prison is long years ahead of me still." Aefwyn was part relieved by his words, but a worry set in her heart too.

"Perhaps." She kept on with her play, wanting to see him betray some more emotion. His face remained calm though, and it was getting too dark to see his thoughts in his eyes. The torches lighting up the façade were behind them, and only a soft glow lighted his golden hair.

"Perhaps! I cannot marry a maid of twelve, she is a child still!" He sounded light-hearted again, but not too genuine.

"Worry not. The king has pondered over the matter of your marriage. The princess may still be a child, but you are not old yet either."

"Why on earth would uncle be pondering over my marriage? Doesn't he have any more pressing concerns?" There was a clear undertone of annoyance in his voice. Aefwyn almost smiled thinking he sounded a bit like a petulant child with that particular tone of voice.

"Well, as your cousin is unlikely to marry anytime soon, you are the only one he can play matchmaking with. Also, you are far easier when it comes to finding suitable brides. Théodred has the burden of being the next king; his wife must be of suitable birth." Éomer gave her a sidelong glance.

"You've really been thinking about this, haven't you?"Awfwyn felt a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. She was this time pleased of the setting night.

"It is the thing people are talking about. Everyone in Edoras is worried. Men die, and dead men cannot produce heirs." Éomer nodded and sighed.

"And because my cousin has no wife and no heir, and no immediate intention of gaining either, they talk of me." He was looking at his hands.

"Well, unless I want to marry a princess I've never even met, I should probably marry someone else then. Does my uncle really think the prince of Dol Amroth would give his daughter to me? I have nothing else than my halls in Aldburg, and that is not much for someone used to such grace as the city of swans." Éomer looked at her, but Aefwyn doubted he now saw much.

The light had almost completely faded, and their vantage was lit only by the torches now. The great braziers that stood in front of Meduseld had not been lit. Éomer's golden hair looked like molten bronze in the dim, reddish light, his face hidden in shadows.

"That is what I have wondered too. But the king has very few possible brides to choose from. I know Aldburg cannot match the grace of any gondorian court; I have seen it. But the princess should be happy to marry a man of such courage as you are." Aefwyn had had many conversations similar to this in the year passed, but only in the decent months it had started to feel that the words she spoke betrayed more of her emotions than she wanted to give away.

Before she had come to Edoras she had found herself dreaming of Éomer. She had never thought she could be attracted to her friend, but in his last absence she had noticed she in fact was. All this talk of who he should marry had stirred a jealousy in her chest, and it was a feeling she didn't feel herself entitled to. She had no cause to be jealous of the woman Éomer would one day marry; she could never be that woman. Her birth was too common, her wealth too inexistent. But still, the feeling of uneasy attraction had crept into her chest, and there it stayed, right next to her quivering heart.

"Of course you should say that. You are my friend, after all." His voice was quiet, and it sounded like he was deep in thought. Neither of them looked at each other. Aefwyn had locked her gaze to where her hands must have been. She only saw the pale outlines of her hands, grasping each other tightly.

"You cannot deny the truth in my words, though. But tell me, how was your tour this time?" She wanted to derail the conversation to a safer route.

"We killed a lot of orcs, found one burned village stead and saw the villagers safe within the walls of the next settlement. Quite the usual, as much as it saddens me to say it."

It was quiet for a while. They sat in silence, gazing up to the stars above. It was the most comfortable silence Aefwyn had ever felt.

The sounds of revelry from the hall finally woke them from their trance. The commanding officers of the éoreds that had returned today were drinking and laughing within. Normally, it would have been the place to find Éomer as well. Even though their thoughts had been thus disturbed, they sat still until the great doors opened and men started pouring out.

"Hey, Éomer, why are you sitting here all by yourself? Oh, I see!" It was one of Éomer's commaders, a man named Dréma. He was in his thirties, a burly man with a mighty beard and a bush of reddish brown hair.

"A pretty lass you have found indeed!" There was a chorus of rowdy cheers from the other men.

"Mind your words, Dréma." Éomer responded, smiling. His voice was low and not too cheery, even though his manner was friendly. The officer took the hint and after a few more cat calls the troupe descended the stairs to find a tavern.

"I apologize."

"No need, Éomer. After all, most men stationed here already think we have something going on." This seemed to be a surprise to him.

"Really? Whatever for? Because we sit here and talk?"

"Well, that and the fact that they think it is surely a sign of something more that the lord Éomer spends his time with a servant. I am sure you can see what they think they are seeing if you put your mind to it." She looked straight at him, the other side of his face lit by the torches as he looked at her too.

"They think I'm wooing you." It was a statement so obvious Aefwyn suddenly felt like laughing. She would have, if it wouldn't have been so painfully clear this was the first time Éomer had thought of it.

"So they do. You've built me quite a reputation." She was joking again, a mischief to see his reaction again.

"They really think…?"

"Oh, surely. Have you ever before just been friends with a serving wench? How could I be any different?"

"But you are!" Aefwyn smiled.

"And how could they know? They see what they want to see, and unfortunately, evidence like this helps us not."

Éomer looked afraid. Well, disconcerted. His head had snapped back to staring at his hands, and even under the ruddy light of the torches, Aefwyn thought she saw a slight blush creeping up his neck.

"You really haven't thought of that? I have a throng of admirers thanks to you." That got back his attention. He turned his face back towards her, eyes blazing.

"How many?" There was a ferocity in his voice that made Aefwyn instinctively pull back a little.

"Well, quite a number. I haven't really counted them. Most are so shy they cannot bear to come and talk to me."

"I see. And do you like their attentions?"

"Well, I think it's amusing. They think I am your mistress. When you are gone, they think I want something to distract myself in your absence." He seemed angry.

"And have they proved worthy distractions, Aefwyn?" His voice was low, almost a growl.

"What's with you? They are boys. Do you really think I would care of them in the slightest?"

"Well, surely I must be upset if my mistress dallies with others when I'm gone."

"Surely, was I your mistress." He laughed then. It was a bit uneasy, like he had just remembered she wasn't.

"You got me there. Come, let us go inside. It's getting cold." It was true. After sunset the air had cooled. She hadn't paid attention to it during their conversation, but now she felt goose bumps racing up her arm. She took his offered hand and got up.

"Good night, Éomer."

"Sleep well." They parted when they entered the hall. Éomer went straight towards his own quarters, paying no heed to the few men calling him from one of the tables. Aefwyn walked to her rooms, deep in thought.

Sleep didn't come easy to her, but finally she fell asleep well past midnight.

A/N: Yeah, the story moved forward quite a bit here. These two are a hard couple to play Cupid on, which is part of the reason why it took so long to finish this. It was fun to write them flirting though. I'm taking a few artistic liberties in this chapter. It's pretty damn hard to find any information about the years 3011 to 3014, so I have to make some stuff up. Looking at Encyclopedia of Arda, for example, the period seems peaceful for the Rohirrim, but it seems unlikely to me that it actually could have been so.

Thank you very much for all your support! It's really wonderful to see how many people are following this story!